The Butlers, Perfect
by KinokoBanana
Summary: After Kuroshitsuji II. Ciel and Sebastian return to England and are bombarded by the demanding but diffuse Elsie Adlard, the terminally ill Alice Adlard who wishes for a contract, and the devious Clarence Daray. Expect appropriate Ciel/OC. Updated... Eh?
1. Prelude

His Butlers, Perfect

Prelude

Ciel Phantomhive stood with his face to the sea. His dark hair hung scraggly, tough from a year and a half of brisk sea air, and whipped in the wind. A black shirt with sleeves rolled at the elbow accompanied black shorts and short boots. Ciel's arms were slick and shiny with the salt of the Atlantic ocean, and he appreciated the ruggedness of his appearance. He looked at his butler next to him, on the verge of grinning.

"I believe we've reached what we were looking for, Sebastian. What do you think?" He said.

Sebastian ran a hand over his pony-tailed hair, which had grown long during the journey. Feeling the cool air on his face, he closed his glowing red eyes. Ciel watched him and waited for a response. The boy had learned to be patient since his ultimate command had been made to Sebastian; To be his butler for all eternity, whether the demon got a soul or not. At first Sebastian had been depressed slightly, but now it was as if it relaxed him to have some sort of constant in his life. However, this realization that he wasn't going anywhere apparently made him tremendously slow in making decisions. Ciel thought to himself about how this used to irritate him, but now it was simply how Sebastian was, and there wasn't going to be any changing it.

"It isn't the worst thing I've done, pirating." Sebastian said, and looked down at the young demon next to him. "I have also heard through the grapevine that London has replaced you, so we needn't be going back."

Ciel blinked.

_Replaced me,_ he thought, _A new Earl to be the Queen's dog? How?_ The thought disturbed him, though he knew it shouldn't. He was a demon now, and needed no royal rubbish to trouble him. He knew of no Marquee waiting for duty but Phillip Adlard, and the Adlards were killed off years ago. _Who could it possibly be?_

"I haven't any idea who." Said Sebastian, reading Ciel's thoughts. "Only that they haven't been troubled with any business yet and that there are doubts that he's any good."

"Yes?" Ciel turned to look over the boat. A motley crew milled about the deck, cleaning and managing and the like. His American faux girlfriend swung about the ropes, grinning like the giddy girl she was, and her brother manned the wheel. Ciel knew that the lower levels were thick with plunder and wealth, and that everyone on his crew was healthy. "I say that the crew of _Bella Donna _gives this 'New Earl' something to trouble over. What do you say, first mate Michaelis?"

Sebastian knelt on one knee in his black trousers and white dress shirt and tie. "Yes, Captain." Standing, he adjusted his garments. "_Miss Melanie Crawford! Front and cen_-"

In an instant the girl slid lithely down the thick ropes and sprinted eagerly to the call of Sebastian. Ciel smirked slightly at the scrawny girl whose dream he had all made true. He'd kept Melanie on the boat after she'd stowed away to follow her brother because of Sebastian. His butler had blatantly stated that if he was to have any respect in the pirating world that he needed "some ruthless broad to pose as his partner." Melanie agreed to the position eagerly, begging to do anything not to be alone. The difference between Elizabeth and Melanie as a courtship was that Melanie could understand him and the difficulties of his background. She hadn't been spoiled at birth, and made her way in the bustling and dangerous world of the Boston slums during the midst of the Civil War. Melanie also listened, understanding her place and when to speak. And she was attractive, but that was beside the point.

"Hey, Sebastian. Can I help you?" She said in a voice that flowered with anticipation for any order that Sebastian gave her. Her adoration for the first mate was understandable but unnecessary, however Sebastian ravished in it.

"Tell William to set coordinates for London Harbor. We've an Earl to greet." He smirked as he sent her on her way.

"Yes, sir!" Giving a short, mocking wave to Ciel, she practically flew to her brother. "William! William, to London!"

The boy's prominent eyebrows crooked. "London?"

"London!"

Ciel came up from behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "London."


	2. Chapter 1, The Conflict

Chapter 1, The Conflict

"Lady Elsie? It's morning." A tall figure clad in black opened the curtain, streaming light into the grand bedroom. A gleeful young girl blinked her eyes open sleepily.

"You're kidding. Already?" She yawned and sat up in the beautiful goose down comforter. "What's today's schedule, Clarence?"

He pulled the tea cart into Elsie's bedroom. "This morning you have cello lessons with Madame Rosmerta-"

"She's so old... Honestly Clarence, how can she possibly try to teach music properly with her ears failing her?" Elsie stretched and took a tea biscuit from the tea cart. Looking at Clarence, she waved her hand. "Continue."

"After that you have your early studies. Later this afternoon, Lady Alice will be arriving,"

Elsie's eyes widened as she downed her tea

"And this evening you two-"

"Alice is coming!" She cried.

Clarence nodded as he retrieved her outfit from the armoire. Laying it down on the edge of the bed, he set the boots on the ground. "Would you like-"

"Yes, yes, have Millie in to dress me." She nabbed another biscuit. "Clean her bedroom immediately, dust the library, make sure there are at least four platters of sweets in the foyer, and _please_ have everything ship shape by this afternoon." Elsie looked Clarence dead in the face, "No mistakes! Everything _must_ be perfect!"

Clarence bowed, his silver eyes gazing at Elsie through his thick black hair. "Of course, Mistress."

As he left the room, Elsie flew out of the bed onto the platform in the mirror corner. Looking at her reflection, she ran her hand through her ruffled blonde hair. She'd cut it to about her chin last month, hoping it'd make her look more mature. Yet, at thirteen, she still managed to look more like a ten-year-old than an important English noblewoman. Elsie spun a little, and looked at the bed. A small smile sparked on her lips as she got into a low, ready position.

"Miss-"

Elsie leaped from the platform to the soft springy bed. Jumping on it playfully, she laughed, "Look, Millie! I'm a rabbit!" Prancing around her bed, she giggled.

The maid's hand flew to her mouth. "My Lady, that's no way to behave!" She gathered her skirts briskly, hurrying to save the dress at the foot of the bed. "Miss Elsie, please! Ye'll break the springs, then your lovely bed will sag!"

Elsie's smile faded as she bounced to a stop. "Yes, Millie. Sorry, I wanted to have a little fun."

Millie sighed and looked up at her, "Oh, it's quite alright, love. It's just, well, ye' know..."

"Of course, Millie. I'm to," Elsie cleared her throat, giving her voice an acute Irish brogue, "'Behave like a _proper_ lass if I'm to attract any well meaning suitors. Not to mention the wealthy ones!' I'll be good."

The young maid smiled softly. "Off ye' go to the dressing stand. Can't put anything nice on ye' with ye' above me head, can I?"

Elsie grinned and bounded lightly off the bed to the platform she was on a moment ago. She held her arms up while Millie prepared a corset. "Mistress, would you like to hear a joke?"

"I'd bet you'd like me to. Is it a new one this morning?"

"Why, yes! I heard this at a dinner show me last night off." The maid cleared her throat as she slipped Elsie's nightdress off. "So, the new Priest was so nervous at his first mass that he could hardly speak. Before the second week in the pulpit he asked the bishop how he could calm his nerves." Millie began lacing up the back of the corset. "The Bishop said to the Priest, 'Next week, put some liquor in the water pitcher. After a few sips, everything should run smoothly.'

"The next Sunday," She continued, "the new Priest put the suggestion into practice and was able to talk up a storm, felt right lovely. Upon returning to the rectory, however, he found a note from the Bishop..." Elsie let out a small giggle and Millie took the opportunity to tighten the laces. "The note said:

Next time sip, rather than gulp."

Elsie smiled. _A list? Cruel tactics, all in the name of appearance._

"There are 10 Commandments, not 12, and 12 Disciples, not 10."

She laughed some, the corset tightened.

"David slew Goliath, he did not kick his arse."

Another laugh.

"We do not refer to Jesus Christ and his Apostles as 'J.C. and the boys'."

Elsie tried to contain herself, "Millie, you're...terrible!"

"Next week there is a taffy pulling contest at St. Peters, not a Peter pulling contest at St. Taffy."

"We do not refer to the cross as 'The Big T'.

"We do not refer to the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost as 'Big Daddy, Junior and the Spook.'"

Elsie laughed loudly as Millie pulled the strings harder with every chuckle.

"The recommended way of saying grace is not 'Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, Yea God!'

"And last but not least, it is the 'Virgin Mary', not 'Mary with the cherry'!"

Tying a bow and easily sliding the fuchsia gown over Elsie's shoulders, Millie bowed, laughing quietly to herself. Elsie breathed slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Phew, alright, time for cello. In a corset. Should improve my posture." She slipped on the boots, gently combed her hair, and gave Millie a quick hug. "Thank you, Millie!" Smiling, she trotted out of her room down the stairs.

The Adlard estate has been renovated, torn down, renovated again, then removed half of Adlard Forest to make way for Adlard Courting Grounds. To put it briefly, it was an extremely wealthy family. If one were to stride casually though the mansion, which is hardly possible without a sense of awe making its way onto one's facial expression, they would first be greeted with an intoxicating scent of cinnamon. Next would come the shocking abundance of burgundy and mahogany that graced every nook, cranny, and secret hallway of the home. The floors, stairs, railings, and doors were a dark, polished mahogany, delightfully contrasting the carpet and wallpaper that were washed a deep burgundy. The main light source was a behemoth of a chandelier that hung imposingly in the middle of the foyer. Two grand staircases led upwards to the first floor balcony that wrapped around the interior invitingly. Within the West Wing of the mansion was the library, connected study, breakfast room, music room, several servants' quarters, and the courtyard entrance. The East held the main dining room, two other studies, the kitchen, and the practice yard for various sports. The Main Mansion consisted of four bedrooms, two other studies, a smaller library, the sitting room, and the window room.

The mansion, when full, was a wonderful place that maintained its occupants interest and had no less than ten hands to cater to each one's whims. However, with its mere six inhabitants, it was now an echoing mass, gloomily collecting cobwebs as the months go by.

Elsie pranced down the stairs and swirled into the music room.

"Good Morning, Madame!"

The pristine old woman perched by the large cello case. She nodded at Elsie and gestured to the instrument.

"We shall be composing your piece today," She said in a voice as prickly as her appearance. Elsie smiled as she strode over to the case. Removing the massive instrument, she grasped it like a trophy next to her small body. She ran her hands along the dark wood, and placed the bow lightly on the strings. "One, two, three...begin."

The music began on a jerky, hard melody, Elsie's nose rumpling as she concentrated on the notes.

"Stop."

"Why? I hit all the notes."

Madame Rosmerta shook her head. "There is no soul in the piece. No life, no _feeling_."

Elsie looked at the woman, "I'm trying!"

"Try harder," Rosmerta said, sitting down sharply. "Do it again."

Elsie huffed and started once more. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wrap around the song's meaning; her life. The soft melody played the way a mother lovingly caresses her baby, sisters run playfully, and a father laughs heartily. Slowly, the tune turned to a darker note. Visions of confusion and fear flowed through the music as Elsie remembered The Illness sweeping the household, eventually killing several servants and Elsie's mother. Her cello rang out funeral after funeral, and her father's escalating madness after the disease returned for her sister, Alice. It recalled her father's suicide, Elsie's near murder, Alice's move to France, and tens of developing fears. The song paused, then slowed once more, whispering wishes and mysteries. Of secrets and corruption within the government, and the appearance of Clarence Daray, a secluded butler that valiantly protected Elsie. A building melody told of Millie's arrival as an untrained street rat, the sudden deaths of earls Trancy and Phantomhive giving Elsie mounds of work, and the initial re-establishment of the Adlard nobility.

A long, affirming note ended the song as Madame Rosmerta nodded. "Yes, Miss Adlard. This is the beautiful soul I was waiting for."

Elsie opened her eyes and looked at her feet with a flash of melancholy. "Yes," she muttered, "Beautiful."

"Pardon? Speak up, my ears are leaving me."

Elsie looked at Madame Rosmerta and, flipping her bangs out of her face, she grinned. "I said thank you, Madame. I couldn't have done it without your coaching." She glanced at the large clock on the wall, "Oh, I've to be going. Have a good day!"

"Of course I will, when haven't I had a good day? I always have fabulous..."

Elsie walked down the stairs to be greeted by Millie. The maid's face lit up as she grinned excitedly. Her hair padded softly down her back to her waist, where her long dress cinched lightly. When she wanted to, Millie could look quite beautiful, and quite menacing. When the mansion was raided one winter she held her own against four thugs. "Ye' learn how to take care of yerself when ye' been alone as long as I've." She'd explained.

"Ready for today's lessons, Lass?" Millie, despite her background, was an avid learner, while business was more Elsie's savvy. She trotted over to the library where the schooling was held.

Leonard Lilleyman sat in the library tapping his fingers on the edge of his chair. He whipped out his pocket watch. _Three minutes and forty-two...forty-three..._

"Morning Leo-"

"Three minutes and forty-five seconds." He clicked his tongue and stood. "Awfully late."

Elsie shrugged and flopped into the chair opposite the scholar, while Millie sat next to her.

As Leonard rolled a cart of large books and scrolls from behind a shelf, the two cringed. "Ancient Egypt," he heaved a stack of texts onto the table with a grunt, "Was a glorious civilization, riddled with art, mystery, and magic." He tossed his brown-blonde hair out of the way of his eyes. Tossing a scroll to Millie, who caught it, nearly falling backwards, he adjusted his glasses. "Its people believed in the afterlife and various Gods that would grant them frivolous things like eternal life if the people gave enough fruit and burned herbs and killed enough babies- Very religious society."

"You're in such awful hurry, Leonard, I can't hardly catch a word you're saying." Elsie said as Millie opened the scroll.

"Well, Miss Adlard," Leonard said, sorting through aged books with illegible writing in them, "I've three minutes and forty-three-"

"Forty-five."

"Seconds to make up. Ah, there she is-Millicent, would you translate that scroll with this text, please?"

Millie flinched. "Of course, Leonard. Also, if ye' don't mind-"

"This civilization was ruled by kings dripping in gold," he continued, "Who called themselves Pharaohs, or 'great house' in literal terms. Makes hardly any sense to me, giving a person a title based upon the place the lived. Anyway, these Pharaohs would begin ruling as early as eight years old, and many were regarded as 'boy-kings'." Leonard strode briskly to a chalkboard, littered in markings, next to a shelf. "They were also regarded to be divine and human."

Millie looked at Lawrence and smiled as he looked down. He cleared his throat, "Millicent, we'll need that scroll done _before_ the lesson is over." She blinked and returned to the scroll and book as Leonard gathered his thoughts. "Ah..."

Elsie put her cheek on her palm. waving her hand she said, "Today we'll be studying..."

"_Today we will be studying_ the Pharaoh Ramses II, who certainly seemed to do everything over he top if you ask me..."

Elsie listened distantly to the lesson, her mind preoccupied with the thought of her sister's arrival.

_Alice_, she thought, _I haven't seen her in...ages. Not since she left for France. I really do hope she makes it alright...Is four platters of biscuits too excessive? I really should've asked Clarence to sweep the place up a bit. I didn't even tell Cook to be sober today! All of this preparation for one guest-Ridiculous thinking, Elsie. What's Leonard saying? Half-human, half-animals? I suppose Egypt's interesting enough._

Elsie stared blankly at the chalk board, where Leonard drew symbols of eyes and hands, slashing through snakes and speaking excitedly.

She sighed and looked at Millie, who diligently translated the scroll.

Millie had come to the mansion one night dripping wet, dirty, and raging.

ACT II

Scene 6

A MAID ARRIVES

[ELSE ADLARD sits stage-right on the mansion stairs eating a biscuit. CLARENCE DARAY stands dutifully at her side. Off-stage it storms.]

ELSIE ADLARD

We need a maid. What do you think about a maid, Clarence?

CLARENCE DARAY

(Takes out a handkerchief and picks out the crumbs from the carpet)

I don't believe it necessary, Mistress. I can easily complete any household task...

ELSIE ADLARD

(Continues to eat the biscuit, walking nonchalantly towards center-stage)

Yes, yes, I believe we established that you are the ultimate butler. I'm just saying, it's so empty sometimes. Why not fill the house up with servants?

CLARENCE DARAY

Solitary life with few companions is healthy.

ELSIE ADLARD

I'd hardly call Madame and Cook companions, Leonard's too serious, and you're... Different. I say we get a maid.

CLARENCE DARAY

Whatever you say.

[Thunder and lightening flash outside and ELSIE ADLARD is startled]

CLARENCE DARAY

I believe there's a visitor.

ELSIE ADLARD

The coming storm?

CLARENCE DARAY

At the door.

ELSIE ADLARD

Ah. Well go on, open it.

(CLARENCE DARAY opens the door, suddenly greeted by MILLICENT O'CARROLL bounding on-stage and falling upon ELSIE ADLARD)

ELSIE ADLARD

(Squirms under MILLICENT O'CARROLL)

What in the name of- Get this disgusting outsider off of me! Clarence!

CLARENCE DARAY

(Lifts flailing MILLICENT O'CARROLL effortlessly)

This wasn't necessarily the visitor I expected. I figured some kind of creature.

ELSIE ADLARD

I'd call it a creature. Nasty thing made me lose my biscuit.

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

Off'a me, ye' stinkin' galoot! May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind, ill'gitimate children chase ye' so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord 'imself can't find ye' with a tel'scope!

ELSIE ADLARD

...What? Is this an Irishman?

CLARENCE DARAY

It would appear so.

(Menacing growls and police officers barking orders are heard off stage, jolting MILLICENT O'CARROLL)

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

Oh, Lord...

(SHE begins to struggle again)

ELSIE ADLARD

So that's how it is. Right then, Clarence, toss that wherever and go take care of those... People.

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

I've a name, lass! Best watch your...

(SHE is dropped by CLARENCE and HE leaves quickly)

ELSIE ADLARD

What on Earth am I to do with you?

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

Ye're t' kiss me arse, that's what!

ELSIE ADLARD

So I am. Can you clean?

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

'Course I can clean! What self-respectin' lass can't clean? And what's it t' ye'?

ELSIE ADLARD

(Reluctantly holds out a hand to help MILLICENT O'CARROLL up)

I'm willing to get you educated, employ reasonable hours, and pay a heaping sum if you'll be maid to Countess Elsie Adlard, faithful fly-on-the-wall to The Queen.

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

(Takes the hand and stands at HER full height, towering over ELSIE ADLARD)

N'bility, eh?

(SHE shakes ELSIE ADLARD'S hand)

That sum best be heapin'.

ELSIE ADLARD

(Cringes slightly)

Right. Glad to have you, Miss...?

MILLICENT O'CARROLL

Millicent O'Carroll, Mistress Elsie.

ELSIE ADLARD

Millie it is.

Over time, Elsie and Millie became close, sharing secrets and tutoring and consoling one another. Elsie helped Millie become a legal immigrant in to England and managed to get her citizenship, and Leonard happily accepted the task of teaching diction and manners to the young girl.

"You will remain empty and soulless forever." Elsie heard.

She blinked. "P-pardon?"

"I said," Leonard cleared his throat, "The Egyptians' will to become an _ankh_ would only be made possible by being judged worthy by the feather of truth. If unworthy, you will remain empty and soulless forever. Indeed, quite interesting stuff."

"Ah." Elsie glanced at the clock as the seconds-hand ticked swiftly past 12:32pm. Soon she and her sister would be reunited and...

_And?_

_There must be some reason she's here. Clarence would tell me whether the queen wrote in, and Alice hates this house anyway._

"Why would she be here?"

"Who, Lass?" Millie placed the finished scroll and book on the table.

"Alice. She arrives soon, and I've no idea what her reason is."

Leonard adjusted his glasses. "Perhaps news? She could just be visiting to say 'hello'."

Millie blinked. "I wouldn't know, seeing as we've never spoken, but maybe ye' just haven't seen one another."

"I suppose..." She said, "But it's unlike her. What time is 'later this afternoon?'"

"I'd say around one, one-thirty." Millie said.

Elsie sighed and looked at the clock. "Why is time so slow?"

Alice Adlard gracefully exited the _Apocalypso_ as a small troupe of servants carried her luggage. Tugging her mask strings tighter she glanced around at the harbor.

"_Mademoiselle _Adlard? What do you think?"

Alice turned to Jacques, her assistant. He looked down at her with big brown eyes, his tan skin contrasted the gray sky.

She blinked. "Oh? Oh, it's like a harbor should be." She pulled a strand of hair in front of her nose and strode towards the street. Standing at the curb, she listened to the hustle and bustle of the busy port. "London smells different than France. Have you noticed?"

A lanky blonde servant, looking to be in his early twenties, came up from behind and dropped a suitcase. "Smog, smoke, townsfolk. Nasty English vermin, can't hardly believe that there's anybody high class here." Leaning on the luggage he morosely lit a cigarette. The other servants set the bags down as well and proceeded to talk amongst themselves. Alice adjusted the bun in her strawberry-blonde hair and sighed.

"Are they coming to meet us?"

Jacques took a tarnished pocket-watch out of his vest pocket. "Not if I call a carriage first." He strode closer to the curb and turned to Alice, "I advise you to cover your ears, _Mademoiselle_."

Alice did so and Jacques let out an ear-splitting whistle as a cart rumbled past. The driver pulled quickly over to the side and paused in front of the crew. Once it stopped Alice's servants began to load her belongings onto the top of the coach. The blonde took a long drag of his cigarette and strode over to the coachman's seat while Elsie and Jacques got into the cabin.

"Joe Branston, pleasure. Adlard Estate." He said. The elderly coachman gave a hacking chortle as Joe climbed in next to him.

"Adlards, eh? Haven't heard that name in ages, not since the old man went 'round the bend. Keep a good head on you, if you know what's best." The man whipped the reigns as the horses started off.

"Just drive."

Alice gazed out the windows as the harbor and the other members of her household faded into the distance.

"They will get back alright, I assume?" She said to Jacques.

"Of course. They've never been harmed, what would make this trip any different?"

Alice nodded and watched the city blend into countryside. She glanced at Jaques, remembering him in his dirty rags that she had met him in. He now sat poised and aware, dressed in a suit composed of varying shades of brown, fingernails clean and short, his brown mop of hair cut and styled smoothly. The boy was nearly fourteen now, and had matured greatly since the two had met.

ACT II

Scene 5

ARABIAN NIGHTS

[A twelve-year-old ALICE ADLARD walks along the desolate streets of Paris in the night. SHE hurries along, lugging a massive case behind HER and paying no attention to those around. TAYYIB BISHARA stands in the shadows, dressed in rags.]

JAQUES BISHARA

(Sees ALICE ADLARD and emerges from the shadows)

_Hé, hé dame! Tenez, tenez..._

(Produces a silver pendent from an unseen pocket and hands it to HER)

ALICE ADLARD

(Glances at the boy but continues walking, keeping HER head down)

I have no, er, _Je n'ai pas d'argent._

JACQUES BISHARA

(Hesitates, but continues to follow HER)

_J'insiste, prenez! _For you!

ALICE ADLARD

_Excusez-moi, _I haven't the time or money.

(Begins to walk away)

JACQUES BISHARA

(Moves in front of HER, holding the necklace up)

_Pour vous. Sanquero._

ALICE ADLARD

(Halts for the boy, puzzled and culture shocked.)

For free? No money? _S-sanquero?_ Ah... _Oui. Sanquero, _to you.

(SHE gives a reassuring smile and takes the pendent)

JACQUES BISHARA

(HE moves to stop HER as she begins to leave.)

Wha- _Une, deux, tois, quatre, cinq, cinq euro!_

ALICE ADLARD

What? Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, all of my money is in pounds, I...

JACQUES BISHARA

(Laughs at ALICE ADLARD)

You speak very small French, _Mademoiselle_. A similarity, I speak very small English.

ALICE ADLARD

(SHE is confused for a moment, then laughs as well. SHE hands him the necklace)

That is funny. Here, this is yours...

JACQUES BISHARA

No, you keep, you keep! May I help the bag?

ALICE ADLARD

Help the bag- Oh, my luggage! Yes, thank you. Do you have a home? Family?

JACQUES BISHARA

(HE lifts the bag, but evidently struggles under its weight)

My home is France! My family is the spirit of the city.

ALICE ADLARD

Oh... Well, I am making a home of France as well. How would you like to teach me French? I could teach you English, also, and you can be my assistant; a helper.

JACQUES BISHARA

Work as a help? _Pour_ _enchanteur, belle femme_? _Oui_!But I ask, what sickens you?

ALICE ADLARD

(SHE puts a hand to HER mask)

Just an illness. It shouldn't be here for very long. So, you agree to work for me?

JACQUES BISHARA

I am to be paid, yes?

ALICE ADLARD

Of course. There will be much travel, though. And many unpleasant people.

JACQUES BISHARA

Such is the life of nobility. You are noble?

ALICE ADLARD

Indeed! Alice Adlard, The Queen of England's Sacrificial Lamb.

(JACQUES looks puzzled)

It's a play on words, really. It means that I go to speak with dignitaries from other countries that the Queen wouldn't really want anything to do with.

JACQUES BISHARA

Ah, yes! I am Jacques Bishara, of the 345th Street Lamp in Paris. Where is your stay?

ALICE ADLARD

_Le Château. _Right over-

JACQUES BISHARA

Let me call a coachman!

(JACQUES BISHARA whistles for a carriage)

She leaned her head on the window and let herself drift off to sleep.

_"Well, if it isn't Alice Adlard." A sardonic, echoing voice spoke through the darkness. Alice felt around the blank space blindly._

_ "I can't see."_

_ The voice sighed, "You always were a girl of few words." A snap was heard and a spot-light shown down on a velvet couch. Leaning on the arm of the couch was a girl in a white polo shirt and a black skirt twirling a cane. The skirt ended at her knees, which were covered by white stockings and inky black Mary-Janes. She looked Alice's age, and had dark ribbons in two silver pigtails atop her head. The girl pushed her glasses further up onto her nose and settled the end of the cane on the ground. "Unless you're talking to that Jack fellow." She winked._

_ "_Jaques _is my friend. And why do you care? Who are you?" Alice took a seat on the couch, smoothing her blue dress._

_ "Hmph." The girl glided behind Alice and put her hands on her shoulders. "Oh, take off this awful mask, you look ridiculous! Besides, your mortal illnesses won't kill _me_." Lithely the reaper undid the knot, making the mask disappear._

_ Alice put a hand to her mouth, breathing in what felt like the first fresh air in years. "Things feel real here. Not like other dreams."_

_ "You don't know that it's not," the girl smirked. "Maybe this is the real world?" She leaped over the edge of the couch and took a seat next to Alice. "Maybe all you know is a dream?" Placing her glasses on her eyes, she waved her hand._

_ As soon as she did so, the couch turned a shining champagne color and the scenery unveiled itself. They pair were in a sparkling marble library, a bustle with people dressed in varying outfits and hairstyles pushing carts full of books._

_ "Where is this place?"_

_ "Well, this is where your life is. Everyone's lives are stored in these Magic Plays here, showing every event in their life. I really shouldn't, but I can show you yours." The girl held out her hand and a small book fluttered into it. "I doubt it'd matter anyway, since it's such a short story."_

_ Alice blinked. "Short? What do you mean short?"_

_ The girl handed her the book. It was light and white, except for big black letters on the front stating blatantly _**ALICE ADLARD**._ "Look for yourself."_

_ Alice flipped the pages open rapidly to the last. "'Alice collapses?'" She read hurriedly. "'With her servant Joseph Branston raiding her luggage for cash and other valuables, she sees Christine-' Christine?"_

"_Not important. Keep going." The reaper said, waving her hand._

"'_She sees Christine standing over her, pointing a _sword at her throat_!' What? 'Jacky's probably still at the market,' She says. 'I'll be sure he knows what's happened once he gets to the mansion.'" Alice blinked as she searched the book for more writing. "What do you mean? It... That's...?"_

_The girl snatched the book and tossed it behind her, it halted itself in mid-air and floated back to the shelf. "It. Your death. That's how it all ends. You kick the bucket within the year, I believe."_

_Alice stood abruptly. "What!" She said loudly._

"_Shh!" The young reaper gave a fast look over her shoulder and snapped, a trapdoor appearing under Alice sucking her into a black abyss. "I'll explain soon!" She hissed. Upon seeing several other reapers looking at her she called "...Is this couch made of! So extremely soft and comfortable!"_

_The voice was lost as Alice fell deeper into the hole._

"_Mademoiselle_? _Mademoiselle_ Adlard, are you alright?"

Alice blinked awake in the halted carriage, woken by Jacques's gentle shaking.

"_Mademoiselle _Adlard, you were speaking in your sleep. Did your dreams fare well?"

"Somewhat. Have we arrived?" Alice righted herself carefully, making sure her mask was still tight on her head.

"The carriage has been delayed briefly, but we shouldn't be..." Jacques checked his pocket watch and cringed, "_That_ horrendously late."

"Hm... Alright."

He smiled at her with startlingly white teeth. "I have never been to England, you know. In all of my travels, not once to England. Seeing as it is your birth place, would you say it is better than France?"

Alice looked at him blankly. "No."

Sitting in the Adlard study, Clarence Daray turned the Queen's letter over in his hand. He knew it wasn't proper to handle his mistress's post, but he knew Elsie wouldn't mind. He stood, locked the door, took a peek out the window, and removed the letter opener from the desk. Skimming over the letter, few words stood out to him. He had a hard time understanding most humans' penmanship, though he doubted his would be any better. With a swift hand, he opened the envelope. What he could read mentioned mass thievery and royalty. The words that connected the two subjects were undecipherable. Clarence sighed, straining his eyes for anything else that he could make sense of. His eyes latched onto the word "pirate" and kept an expression of calm interest. Sliding the letter back into the envelope, then resealed it with a spare royal seal Elsie kept to forge letters from royalty.

Slinking back into the chair, he fiddled with the corners of his jacket. Clarence had never served as a butler before, so the starched outfit was unfamiliar on his skin. The job had its perks, however. Elsie rarely called upon him to do particularly dangerous tasks, other than cleaning the windows of the upper floors, which allowed him to lead a life of leisure. Clarence was cared for, often payed, and surprisingly well fed. This last detail was hidden from his master, of course. If Elsie knew that Clarence's allegiance lied with someone outside the Adlard household, the contract between them would be nullified and he wouldn't get a soul as complex and pure as Elsie's. "She won't find out about us, though." Clarence smirked as he thought aloud.

"So this is an affair now? Sexy." The demon heard a familiar voice from the wall behind him.

"Dylan, how did you get in?"

The girl shrugged, "Just, you know, the usual way." She smirked as she produced a small crystal flask with dark liquid swirling within it. Clarence eyed it ravenously, inspiring even more delight in the girl's expression. She tossed it carelessly at him and he caught it lithely.

Uncorking the bottle, Clarence shot a half-hearted glare at her, "You'll get in trouble for this." He took a swig of the liquid and allowed a pleasurable expression to cross his face.

"No I won't, and if so, who cares? Spears is a wuss." Dylan put her hands in the pockets of her trousers and sat on the desk. Her hair was dark brown, cropped short, and dyed red at the tips. Her glasses, battered old things seeing as she didn't have a spare pair, were thick rimmed and sat crookedly across the bridge of her nose. The deep purple dress shirt she wore was too big, giving her a somewhat androgynous appearance, something she took great pride in. Her black trousers covered ankle boots with a two-inch heel, giving her enough height to stand shoulder level with Clarence. Watching him drink down the liquefied soul she cringed, "That's so gross. That stuff was _inside_ of a _person_."

Clarence emptied the crystal flask and slid it across the desk, looking renewed and refreshed as someone who just came back from a spa. "I'm just abominable."

"You can say that again." She caught the bottle and stowed it in her pocket, then stood. Striding over to the window, she paused. "Haven't you a table to set?" Clarence blinked, then stood, remembering his initial responsibility.

"Haven't you some souls to reap?" He called as he made his way out the door of the study.

"Well, haven't you-" Dylan's voice was lost as Clarence closed the door and made his way to the East Wing.

The kitchen was a bustle with the clattering of pots and hearty singing. As Clarence prepared to enter the dining room he stopped by the loud room.

"_Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea_

_Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelie;_

_Over the streamlet vapors are borne,_

_Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn."_

"If you have time to waste, the food should already be ready. Is it?"

The chef scrambled to his pots nervously. "U-um, no, I'll get on it right away..."

Clarence sighed. The chef was so unreliable, rapped up in his little word that revolved around himself. "Take this as a warning to do your work properly. I cannot do your job for you."

"Yes, sir!" He began preparing the food with haste, likely scared out of his wits.

Out of the room Clarence resumed on his way, carrying a plate, napkin, and silverware. He arranged it to seat the young ladies: spoon farthest to the right, two forks, the knives placed left, and the plate carefully placed in the center. Holding the napkins tight, Clarence folded them into elaborate pyramids and placed them in the middle of the two plates. As he heard Elsie's clattering footsteps in her heavy boots prance across the courtyard at the chime of the grand doorbell he left to let Alice Adlard's party enter the mansion.

Elsie trotted after him quickly, barking out the regulations upon the rare event of a guest at the mansion.

"Now, if they have a speck of dirt on their shoes- _a speck- _they'll be sent out to spit polish it themselves. All of them have to wear masks, which Alice will, thank goodness, and they're to touch nothing but what I tell them to specifically." She tossed her hair and adjusted her posture. Giving a sweet smile, she stopped Clarence. "Do I seem presentable?"

"Always, Mistress." He said, looking at her slyly. Elsie's smile disappeared into a look of slight irritation as she rolled her eyes. Clarence embarrassed her not out of affection, but because she had to develop some sense of self-confidence if she was to be any more successful. They entered the main mansion, where Cook, Millie, Madame Rosmerta, and Leonard stood dutifully at the front door.

"The food is ready: Lasagna with steamed broccoli and carrots. The beverage shall be diluted grape juice." Cook said as Elsie nodded.

Millie pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened. "All of the unused quarters have been cleaned, and silver is polished as a mirror."

"Alice's piano is in tune and ready for its beloved owner's return." Elsie tried not to roll her eyes at Madame's evident infatuation with music.

"Her books are dusted and sorted, and I've cleared your lesson plan so as to allow the Young Misses to bond and such," Leonard pushed his glasses up and smirked. "Expect a hefty review immediately upon the cease of the visit."

"Yes, Leonard." Elsie said, nearly sticking her tongue out. However, she was about to greet guests and Clarence's hand on her shoulder kept her from doing anything unladylike at the moment. Elsie smoothed her skirts, straightened her back, and looked readily at the door. "Alright, Alice, what havoc have you come to reek now?"

Elsie watched as Clarence opened the grand door, half expecting to see the young round face of her sister grinning up at her. However, no; Instead the open door revealed her sister slightly taller than her, skinny and graceful in matronly, black garments. She was masked but, though Elsie saw nothing of her mouth, Alice's eyes betrayed no hint of a smile. An assistant stood beside her, tall and dark, though his jaw illustrated some sort of French heritage. Elise was disappointed to see that neither he, nor a tall American man in the back unloading luggage was masked. Alice looked into her sister's eyes and Elsie held out a hesitant hand. "Alice."

Alice blinked and awkwardly shook. "Elsie," she said questionably. Elsie ended the handshake and invited Alice into the house, the silence deafening aside from the American speaking with the coachman about a particularly large piece of luggage above the carriage. Alice and the boy walked into the Adlard household, Alice nostalgically staring at the ceiling and her help looking solemnly about him. Clarence stepped before the pair and smiled welcomingly, along with the rest of Elsie's servants.

"Excuse me, Miss Adlard, I am Clarence Daray. During this visitation I will be your butler and cater to your every need." He bowed facing Alice, but when he looked up he faced the bare, outstretched hand of her assistant.

"I am Jacques Bishara, Mr. Daray. I will be completely capable of handling _Mademoiselle's_ care and comfort during the stay in her birthplace. We thank you for your services." Jacques said in a rolling French accent. Elsie spied a look of dissatisfaction cross Clarence's face briefly and bit her lip. If the Jacques fellow was going to cross Clarence often, he had another thing coming.

"Well, then, Mr. Bishara," Clarence straightened to look imposingly down at the boy, "I believe we shall be working in tow to our mistresses." He smiled and shook the hand that had inched back slightly. "May I show you to your rooms?"

Alice nodded and gave a parting glance to her sister. Elsie watched the leave and huffed a bit. "She didn't say a word..." She murmured quietly.

Millie tapped Elsie's shoulder politely, an action seldom done unless absolutely necessary. Consequently, a demeaning look was won from Elsie. "Yes?"

"Pardon me, Lass, but there is one more of Alice's party. May I see them in?" Millie inquired politely, removing her hand immediately from Elsie.

"Alright. Wash your hands afterwards." Elsie turned from the door and began to walk towards the study, her mind a-ponder. These solitary walks brought her a great sense of peace, but something hung like a shadow over her step. Echoing in her mind were the casual conversations floating about the mansion and the new voices were politely refreshing.

The Adlards had had the gift of telepathy dating back generations. Adjoining its long name, the ability had myths of its origins. Some said that a witch cursed a young prince to hear the cries of the world due to his hubris, others that all Adlards were satanic creatures seeking to torment the minds of all who cross their paths. Elsie knew these lies and stories, and didn't believe a word. All she knew was that she was determined to clear her family's name without any contact with the commoners who despised her so. Though even living in the mansion gave her some rare grief. Every once in a while, next to brief thoughts of Clarence's that she could understand, there would be an open mind that stuck out like a sore thumb,. The unique thoughts would pop out of no where swimming with topics of death and souls and supernatural nonsense as such, then vanish after a brief conversation with Clarence.

_They probably have to do with Clarence's... special needs._ Elsie thought. She knew that Clarence was a demon, and she knew that by asking him to serve her she had sold her soul away. _Completely worth it. I will do anything to stay away from those _things_ out _there_. _

Elsie reached the library and shot a menacing look out the window. Tossing her hair, she made her way to the adjoining study. She routinely closed the curtains of her window and took a seat in the dim room. She took a seat at her desk, leaning back in the chair. "Alright, time for business."

She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. Their contents consisted of: invitations addressed to her parents, minor crimes that Scotland Yard had already solved, a list of people yet to RSVP to The Queen's Autumn Ball, and various RSVP letters to said ball. Elsie had been invited to attend as well, and was debating her attendance. If she made a public appearance now, she would be hounded by other nobles, gossip, rumors, and other nobles' gossip and rumors. Obviously, she wanted nothing to do with that. Elsie began to laboriously sort the post in to piles, not hesitating to throw that for her parents in the rubbish bin. She placed the list to her left and the pile of letters above it. The Scotland Yard cases would need to be incinerated, so she placed them beside the rubbish bin. A knock sounded on her door as she removed a quill from her middle drawer.

"Afternoon, Clarence."

The butler opened the door pushing a cart of afternoon morsels for Elsie. "Would you like something to eat, Mistress?" he said pleasantly.

"I suppose. What-"

Clarence lifted the lid of the silver platter that lay on the cart, revealing a brown soup. "Peanut soup with water chestnuts. On the side are saltines if you wish to dip them in. I'd recommend eating them alone, though, they look sweet."

Elsie smirked, Clarence's one flaw as a butler presenting itself. "Clarence, saltines are salty. That's why they are called _saltines_. Thank you." She continued, opening letters and checking off names and their responses. Glancing up, she noticed that Clarence was still there, looking slightly confused.

"Salty?"

"Yes. Like... Blood." Elsie went back to work.

"Well, then, Miss Adlard," Clarence knelt and looked up at her working, "I expect your blood to taste like a saltine." He then stood and took his leave.

Elsie was nearly positive that he knew he'd sent a cold shiver up her spine. As the door closed she crammed a saltine into her mouth, her writing taking up a new speed.

Slowly but steadily, Elsie completed the day's tasks. Upon finishing, she stood, covered the untouched soup, and went to the window. Peeking through the curtains, the dangerous world of London at twilight lashed out at her. Elsie closed them and turned to leave the study. She entered the library to be greeted by Alice, the man called Jacques, Leonard sorting books as usual, and Clarence lounging in one of the thick chairs. Upon seeing her he stood with unearthly speed.

"Good evening, Mistress. I was to present some royal business to you, but Miss Alice requested I wait until you have finished your other work." He gestured to where he was previously sitting, "Please."

Elsie walked over and took a seat. Her sister sat in the chair beside her that Millie usually used. Without a look at Clarence, she turned to Alice. "Evening, Alice. How have you been?"

"Just fine, thank you." She said, fiddling with her hair.

_She's no better..._

The silence swam throughout the room, thick as molasses, broken periodically by Leonard dropping a book or Jacques uncomfortably clearing his throat. The girls held eye contact, an unbreakable tension between them.

"Your hair is shorter." Alice said, still playing with her own long locks. Elsie nodded to the ambiguous comment, then looked at Clarence.

_She knows why she's here. Someone told her, but not me. Well of course they didn't tell me, I'm no one of importance. Just _Elsie Adlard, head of the bloody household!_ But fine. Clarence will tell me anyway. He must._

"We're gathered here for a reason, I'm assuming." Elsie said, irritation spiking her tongue. Clarence sensed it and applied a business-like tone. He knew that there would be no sweet nonsense with Elsie.

"The Queen sent the household a post last night," He handed Elsie a letter with the royal seal upon it. "It seems to be of dire importance to the safety of England's capital."

Elsie began to open the letter, fuming slightly. "Why was this not brought to my attention this morning when the schedule was read? I don't appreciate surprises, Clarence." She shot him an angry look, but he simply straightened his tie.

Clarence tossed his bangs out of his face. "You interrupted me during the reading of the schedule, Mistress." A small smirk flew over his mouth. Elsie blinked and looked at the letter as she opened it, blushing slightly. Alice had a spot of laughter in her eyes, as Jacques contained his (_sickening, ugly, unnecessary, French-Arabian) _giggles. "As I was saying, it seems that..." Elsie read the letter quickly with her expression changing from slight irritation, to surprise, to dread.

"It seems that-"

"_The Queen has spotted the pirate ship _Bella Donna _off the coast of England!"_


End file.
